Cattails

I've always loved cattails. I just got such a kick out of them when I was a kid. Now, I still love them - perhaps more for reasons of nostalgia than anything else. But they make me smile. They're quirky. Rustic but elegant. Their striking verticality juxtaposed against the soothing, flat water's edge.

One of my favorite things about the new home we've moved into is that it is situated across the street from a small pond, which is surrounded by wonderful cattails. In fact, this is one of the major reasons we even bought the home - for the pond, the bullfrogs, the ducks (and yes, I know bullfrogs can eat baby ducks, but I'm going to pretend I don't know that), the heron, the cattails and the red-winged blackbirds that cling to them. And a second floor office with a balcony I can step out on to enjoy all of it.

As I'm writing this, however, and staring at the picture inserted of these wonderful cattails, the more I'm realizing .. they look like corn dogs. How have I never noticed this before? Is this really why I love cattails? Because they remind me of corn dogs, which are wrongly delicious? Man. If I subconsciously love cattails because of my obsession with food rather than some poetic appreciation of nature, I'm very disappointed in myself.

Which brings me to the reason for this post: I am. Very. Disappointed. It has never before occurred to me - until I looked out my window a little while ago - that you can blow cattail fluff the same way you do dandelion fluff. WHY HAVE I NEVER BLOWN CATTAIL FLUFF??? I just saw a family of 3 (plus a happy, jumping dog) having a cattail fluff fight, and it seemed like the perfect, quintessential fall thing to do. As perfect as kicking leaves as you walk through them, drinking spiced apple cider, and wearing turtlenecks. All of which I've already done this fall, so I need to go outside and add to my repertoire.

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(virtual cattail fluff, my gift to those of you without the real thing)